Loose Ends
by CranberryVishnu
Summary: Bryan Fury has given up. On people, on life, on himself. Retreating to the isolation of the trackless Arizona Desert, Bryan decides to drink his past away. A task easier said than done.
1. Rise and Shine

**01 – Rise and Shine**

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

I think what finally woke me up, was the intense heat radiating into my skull from the steel plates in my face and head. They had been bakin' away for a good, long time and were now really hot from the searing rays of the merciless, Arizona sun.

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

I heard a faint mechanical whine as my irises contracted. I squinted against the bright, photons of pain that slanted in through the faded yellow curtains with tiny, white flowers. The curtains were really no more than sad little rags, that hung over the dented, stainless steel sink of my vintage _1959 New Moon_ trailer home.

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

Well the old trailer _would_ have been vintage – if it wasn't in such crappy condition. What was once a state-of-the-art status symbol for comfort, style and modern conveniences, had transitioned over the decades into the sorry, crumbling heap of junk that was steadily becoming a part of the rocky, snake infested desert that stretched out endlessly in every direction.

The countryside was bleak. Dry and barren as my mouth felt at the moment… Like somethin' had crawled in there over the night, and just died.

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

"Agh… my head – shit-f-fuk."

I rubbed the back of my neck and sat up dislodging a collection of empty booze bottles that clattered to the cracked linoleum floor. I stared at them for a few seconds as they rolled around on the faded red and white checked pattern on the tile floor. I began to make the connection between the pain in my head and the possible cause.

"Well… that explains a lot…"

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

I swiveled around on the bowed and sagging couch I had spent the night on, and looked at the cracked, white plastic of the window sill. It was a miniature insect killing field. Mounds of weird little corpses were piled high in a tangled mess. Like some tiny psycho had been runnin' amuck… murdering everything in sight.

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

My bleary optics zoomed in on the culprit. Crouched up in the top right corner of the window pane, behind the curtain rod, was a big, fat, hairy brown recluse spider. My roomie. She had been there for months, just munchin' away on those little fuckers and droppin' their drained, lifeless husks down to the sun-faded ledge above the fecund sink. It had gotten to the point where I actually kinda looked forward to seeing her every morning.

"Hey Rosie…"

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

I rocked my head from side to side, then looked around my dark and dingy trailer. There were holes in the walls where the rust had literally eaten its way through, creating ragged gaps for the hard southwestern sun to blaze through. I watched the dust swirling in the light beams as I pondered the pile of dishes in the sink. They were covered with unrecognizable, crusty shit from months ago.

 _I really needed to get to that…_ _but first…_

"I need to STOP…

 _RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!_

…THAT GOD-DAMN PHONE FROM RINGING!"

I stood up fast and immediately regretted it. The sudden movement, hell – maybe it was the change in altitude – whatever, nearly caused my head to explode. I stumbled heavily over to the wall, where my old, olive green rotary wall phone sat in its mount.

 _RRRRRRRRIIIII*_

I pulled the handset off too quickly and accidentally ripped a fist-sized hole in the decaying metal skin of my vintage trailer, letting yet another, intense beam of desert sunlight cut through the darkness of my living room.

"ASS!"

Gritting my teeth, I jammed the receiver against my ear and answered.

"Talk to me – and make it fast – I'm in great pain."

The cheery, voice on the other end sounded familiar… and not in a good way – I could hear the malice behind the sarcasm even through the fog of my nuclear powered hangover.

"Bryan Fury – in _pain_? The only thing I know of that could cause this, would be… Bryan – have you been drinking?! You know that's not the answer to your prob –"

It was Major Robert Burns. He worked for the defense department – mainly with the CIA spooks at Langley. A suit and tie kind of guy. He was a total dick. I'd done a lot of work for him and his cronies – the pay was always decent – but these jobs usually ended with me cleanin' up messes he and his agency buddies made. Whenever I got a call from this creep – you could bet your life – it would end with me beatin' some poor sunuvabitch to death.

"Of _course_ I've been drinking! Cut the crap Bob and just tell me – who needs to die?"


	2. Scotch and Ice

**Scotch and Ice**

It wasn't long before I found myself as the only passenger in a gleaming black, ten seater Beechcraft. It was jettin' along at about thirty-five thousand feet up. We were currently hugging the coastline of British Columbia and heading north. It looked like we were going pretty quick too. I scanned the topography below and locked onto a distant landmark – a far off peak that looked like a shark tooth. Using it as a point of reference I engaged my data center and did a quick calculation… we were traveling at mach two – or about 1,400 miles an hour.

 _We're in a big damn hurry alright…_

The in-flight orderly, was some wide eyed kid – fresh outta the training program. He had clearly heard about me and I could see equal amounts of excitement and fear competing for control over his busy little mind.

I pretended not to see him as he haltingly made his way over to my seat.

Considering how damn secretive the CIA is known for being – you'll find no bigger nest of gossips anywhere. Like a bunch of friggin' hens softly cluckin' to each other. I'm sure once they found out this punk would be flying with me, all the senior agents had a blast telling him all about what a sadistic monster I am.

I had to give the kid credit though; he controlled his fear pretty well. Must have been all the military training. The only real give away were the subtle tremors in the hands as he handed me my drink. Made tiny ripples across the surface of my scotch and ice, causing the multiple cubes that were crammed in there to clink and rattle.

I gave him a big friendly grin as I pulled a few of the ice cubes out, dropping them on the floor.

"Thanks kid. Y'know, I'm not really as bad as they've been tellin' you, uh…" I glanced at his name tag – it was facing backwards, I flipped it around. The plastic made a thin hard sound as I tapped it with my finger. "…agent Taylor."

He smiled and seemed kind of relieved.

"Heh, oh – sure… sure, Mr. Fury – I knew the guys back at base were all full a' shi– "

"I'm worse."

It was kind of fun watchin' all the color drain from his delicate little face.

"Uh… oh. I ah, is there anything else you um, need?"

"Two things rookie: Keep those drinks comin', take it easy on the goddamn ice. Get that right and I'm pretty sure you'll live through the flight."

I watched as he walked stiffly away in the direction of the galley, gripping the seatbacks to steady himself against the light turbulence. Most of it was in his knees. I smiled and turned to the window.

I settled back in the large leather seat. It was comfortable and had a kick ass foot rest. I reached over to put my empty glass in the cup holder when Taylor appeared and took it. Then before I could ask he immediately placed a fresh one in my hand. There were only three large ice cubes. They didn't rattle.

 _Nice going Taylor – looks like you're gonna make the cut._


End file.
